


To The Wolves

by Woodface



Category: Marvel
Genre: Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:45:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7894903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodface/pseuds/Woodface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a month for her to feel like she has found her footing... (Mara Hill comic book character study.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I started reading comic books, I concentrated on Maria Hill. I was trying to piece together her story. I wrote these snippets as I was moving along in the comics to give me greater insight into her life. This became a bit of a collection of my headcanons for Maria in the comic books. You might recognise some of the themes here as they snuck into my other works. 
> 
> I intended to turn this into a bigger Black Hill fic, but as time goes on, I doubt that's likely to happen. As I do enjoy some of what I wrote, I've decided to let this fic go free. This is unbetaed and there's no real plot to tie everything together (except for what happened in the comics), but hopefully it's still enjoyable enough.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becoming director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Why me?"

The men in front of her are definitely not S.H.I.E.L.D., but the way her CO was bending over backwards tells her that they have a lot of pull. Or that they, at the very least, represent someone who has. They don't give her any names and they don't shake her hand either. All they provide is an offer that has her head reeling because this makes no sense at all.

"You're neutral," one of them answers. It's always him who does the talking while the other one studies her. It'd be unnerving if she hadn't made it her job not to be unnerved by anyone. By any man. She can't afford to in this business. "You have no connections to any of the superheroes. Considering what's coming, that's going to be an advantage we need, Agent Hill."

She raises an eyebrow at that, but she's not naive enough to think asking what that means will get her an answer. "I'm sure Director Fury-"

"Director Fury is not here, and even if he were, this is not his decision to make."

So he does speak after all. She bites the inside of her lip, keeping the smile from forming on her lips. Oh, she's touched a nerve right there and it's a victory. A small one that's going to be making her even more nauseous once she thinks it over. They don't like Fury. She's not a fan herself, but she knows well enough that the people at H.Q. tend to worship the ground Fury works on. She's sure he's earned it. Hell, she's military. She's seen with her own eyes what creates that kind of loyalty. His disappearance has left a void that she's sure will swallow her whole if they try to get her to fill it.

"It's ours," there's a growl now. One that tells her exactly how annoyed he is at her little victory. "And you're it."

She wants to laugh, but she's gotten pretty damn good at keeping that urge under control. It's the only sane response she has, though. It's not like they're asking her opinion. It's an order and she's not going to start disobeying now. Not if she wants to somehow survive it.

"Yes, sir." She prides herself on how she can make that sound defiant without actually making it obvious that it is.

"Good. You should pack. There will be a transport arranged for you first thing in the morning, you can expect to be debriefed then." They rise as one and don't offer her anything else.

She thinks the debrief will be a joke. How do you get debriefed on running fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. anyway?

 

* * *

 

She doesn't sleep the first week. That's an exaggeration, but she doesn't think the few hours she slept in her desk chair (she had them replace Fury's) on board of the helicarrier count. It's no more than two hours at once and she wakes up with an aching neck that makes her feel like a sixty year old.

She feels old. It's stupid because she's fit and healthy. She's at the top of her game, but the piles of reports to go through soon have her brain feeling like a clogged up drain. She suspects the knowledge is slowly leaking out of her ear anyway. Her desk is cluttered with all the files she's trying to read at once and it irks her. She _hates_ clutter. (At least at her workspace, but she hasn't had a personal space since she was recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D.)

There's a knock on her door and she glares at the agent who doesn't wait for her to respond. "Director Hill." He hesitates at the glare, shifts nervously on his feet. "There's a situation."

"There's always a situation." One week and she already knows this is a simple truth.

He nods and stumbles over his words when he realises he's supposed to continue. "I-It's the X-men."

She suspects she's going to learn to dread those words.

 

* * *

 

The first time she has to directly deal with any of the superheroes in person, she makes an ass of herself. She's unprepared; hasn't even gotten close to reviewing any of _their_ files and there she is facing fucking Captain America and Iron Man while behind her the war room is in chaos, trying to get a handle on this damn prison break.

It doesn't help that one of the reasons she has to try and explain this entire mess, is also one of her reasons her hands are tied. Now she has to deal with a newly formed Avenger team while one of the objectives handed down to her was to minimize S.H.I.E.L.D.'s reliance on the superheroes.

"Director Hill?" The voice is too tentative, treading carefully around a superior officer who was just humiliated in front of her entire war room. "We have an incoming call. Beta team has located one of the escapees."

She clenches her hands by her side, blunt nails digging into the palm of her hands as she turns her attention to the screen. "Patch them through," she orders, her voice surprisingly cool despite the anger boiling inside of her. She needs to hit something, but she doesn't think putting a punching bag in a war room is acceptable.

When she finally hits the gym, she trains until her knuckles are raw. Every free moment from then on is spent reviewing every damn superhero file they have. She won't be unprepared again.

 

* * *

 

"If you're using Stark technology, I have a right to know what you're going to do with it!"

Maria is pretty sure everyone outside of the office can hear exactly what's going on inside and it's starting to tick her off. "Are you questioning S.H.I.E.L.D. now?"

"Now?" Tony rolls his eyes at her. "I've been doubting it from the very beginning."

"So don't sell," she crosses her arms and leans back against the wall. She never even sat down for this argument.

"I'm considering it," he narrows his eyes at her. "This has to do with the Superhuman Registration Act, doesn't it?"

By now she knows Stark enough not to be surprised that he's heard about SHRA. Stark has a lot of money and a lot of tech, things that get him information no one should have. Whatever he knows, Maria isn't about to add anything to it. "This is about S.H.I.E.L.D. agents having the best gear they can get at their disposal. That equipment is going to save lives of good people. No offense, but you and your merry band can't be everywhere all of the time. My people deserve the best they can get. Either you provide, or we go somewhere else."

Stark smirks. "Was that a compliment, Maria Hill?"

"Director Hill," she makes a face at him. "Take it as you wish. I don't care. I just need to know if you'll deliver what we're asking or not."

"You won't find better," he's still a cocky ass, even when he's telling the truth. She's not going to flatter him any more by responding. "I'll find out what you'll be using it for."

No doubt. It'd been a risk going to Stark Industries with the request, but she thinks she can hold him off long enough so it won't matter when he confirms his suspicions. They need to move forward with the plan, even if SHRA isn't anywhere close to being passed, they can't afford to be caught with their pants down. Her agents need to be trained now and she's not going to get them inferior gear because Stark might figure out what they're going to do with that super armour of his.

"You could have used one of your spies to buy it in secret," he suggests.

"I chose not to insult your intelligence, the least you can do is return the favour. I'm not into playing games with you, Mister Stark."

"Pity," he leers at her and she wishes she could kick him in the shins for it, but that's probably another thing a person of her rank should be too dignified for.

She glares at his back as he leaves and makes a mental note to make a team go over every inch of gear and crate that Stark delivers to track down whatever bug he'll try to plant.

 

* * *

 

Maria fails. God dammit, but she fails spectacularly. The next thing she knows she has a fucking covert faction inside S.H.I.E.L.D. trying to kill the Avengers and do god knows what. Captain America, the fucking symbol for the entire nation, accuses her of being a murderer and Wolverine is calling her a fucking liar despite all evidence of his nose that she isn't. She _hates_ liars. She hates deceptions which probably makes working for S.H.I.E.L.D. not the wisest of her decisions. Then again, it's made her persistent enough because they're like a personal insult and she'll make it her duty to uncover every last fucking one of them.

This one is proving a pain in the ass. It doesn't help that she went from trying to win her agents respect and trust to having to suspect all of them. There's people she wants to trust, who she thinks will have her back in a fight. They're good men and women like Dum Dum Dugan and Sharon Carter, but she's growing naturally suspicious of just about anyone. If this had happened three months from now, things might be different but now… It's like drowning and the New Avengers are the shackle at her legs that are pulling her down.

 

* * *

 

It takes a month for her to feel like she has found her footing. As much as one can in this job, but she doesn't have to think anymore about the names of the people surrounding her. She's even managed to find an apartment. It's nice and spacious. Actually, it's too damn big for her, but she likes it. She even has plans for it. She's considering repainting it whenever she has five minutes to sit and think about something outside of her work. It's almost relaxing to think about matching colours.

She rarely has five minutes, though, and she can count the times she slept in her apartment on her one hand, but she has the pay now and while a part of her regrets wasting the money, she needs just one thing in this damn place to be hers. God knows the job isn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Natasha Romanoff

The first time she meets the Black Widow, it's the middle of the night. She's usually the only one in the gym at that time of night. It's only a little worrying that she seems to be developing a habit of punching things when she should be sleeping. Sadly, it's the only thing that gets her to unwind enough to even manage thinking about sleep. There's too much buzzing around in her head if she doesn't beat it into exhaustion.

She stops at the door and watches, remembering that morning's debriefing when they informed her that the Black Widow would be returning from her last job. She meant to read the debrief, but never did get around to it. She's read the agent's personal file (the _whole_ damn thing), but it doesn't prepare her for the woman herself. There's a grace to her movements despite the efficiency of them. She wonders what that grace would have turned in to if the world wasn't as fucked up as it is.

"You need a partner?" she asks when the Widow doesn't seem to be stopping despite her audience. Natasha doesn't startle, however, but then Maria wasn't expecting to catch her off guard. She isn't expecting to be ignored either, but the woman takes her time to finish what she's doing before turning her attention towards Maria.

It's not the first time Maria feels like she's being assessed, but normally she can tell what the one doing the assessing is thinking. Not now. Romanoff tilts her head slightly and Maria squares her shoulders, unconsciously draws up to her full height as if that might impress the woman. Maria hasn't felt impressive for a long time.

"Sure." Romanoff walks to mats and it's like watching the eye of a storm move. A storm Maria is intrigued to face despite knowing that it will tear her asunder.

She moves to the mats, falling into the familiar fighting stance and she feels clumsy just standing in front of Natasha Romanoff and that's before they even start their spar. She's outclassed in every aspect and if she still would be prone to hero worshipping, she thinks this might be it. Natasha Romanoff is a mere mortal and she doesn't need Stark's tech to keep up with all those superheroes with their mutations and special abilities. She can respect that, even if her back is going to be black and blue from hitting the floor so many times. She can respect it, because despite everything, Romanoff isn't going easy on her.

"Yeah, I think I'm done," she's panting when she hits the ground again and Romanoff neatly moves away from her. It's starting to _hurt_ , but that's alright because her thoughts are quiet and she's so ready to just go to sleep.

Romanoff nods, draws back and purses her lips as she studies Maria. "Good match," she finally says. It's the first thing she's spoken since she accepted to spar.

Maria laughs and pushes herself up to her feet. She's all arms and legs, and hasn't felt this awkward since she was a teenager. "I'm sure it wasn't for you."

Romanoff shrugs, but doesn't deny it. "It was satisfying regardless."

Really, Maria should feel insulted, but no one's been this honest to her in a long time and she can appreciate that. "I bet," she snorts and rubs the back of her neck and winces at the movement. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I need a shower."

 

* * *

 

She sleeps that night. Longer and deeper than she has in a while and when she wakes up she's aching. For a moment, she's thousands of miles away. The constant hum of the helicarrier bleeding into a much older sounds she remembers from years ago. She remembers the sound of generators close to her tent. It'd been soothing in a way, telling her there would be electricity and light in the medical compound.

For a moment she can taste the sand on her tongue, her mouth feels dry and thick, making it hard to swallow. She remembers how her hair would stick to her head. How she would be sticky and hot, but the air in her bunk is filtered and cool on her dry skin. It's enough to make her miss the fucking desert which at least would be _real_. Except, she really doesn't miss finding sand in the weirdest places, no matter how many times she showered.

If she's honest, she never wants to go back there. But now there is only the hum of the helicarrier and it resonates within her bones and echoes in her ears.

 

* * *

 

"We want you to fix this mess, Commander Hill."

Maria is standing to attention, hands behind her back as she's been letting the stream of accusations wash over her. The room is dark except for the light coming from the screens in front of her. They hurt her eyes and are increasing the headache she woke up with that morning, but she keeps her gaze on them anyway. Looking away would be like admitting defeat and she knows she is right. "With all due respect, sirs, there is nothing I can do. I made that clear the first time when we told you the Avengers had reformed. It's a done deal. We do best to move on. This is a waste of time that we can't afford. The mutants-"

"I think you're failing to see the bigger picture here, Hill." Maria bites her tongue, keeping from chewing out the president like she'd chew out one of her agents. "The Superhuman Registration Act will be approved. The last thing we need now is letting the world think they need these superheroes. One of your objectives when we put you in charge was to lessen our reliance on these people."

Maria's fingers twitch behind her back as she fights the urge to rub her forehead. She doesn't think pointing out how much of a hypocrite it makes him to have photoshoots with Captain America one day and then turn around and decide they don't need him. "I am very much aware of my objectives, thank you. Captain America, however, is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who assembled a team that was within his rights to assemble. S.H.I.E.L.D. has rules just like any organisation and as its Commander I am expected to follow them as much as my agents are."

"You have the authority to change them."

Maria glares at the screen. "Not on a whim when I feel like it suits me." She hadn't even thought of it at the time, but then she was so wet behind the ears, she doesn't think anyone can blame her for it. "Now about the mutants-"

"As harsh as this may sound, Commander, what happened to the mutants will only make our lives easier."

She doesn't blink at the statement, but leans forward just a little. "With all due respect, _sir_ , your personal opinion on this doesn't matter. Something happened that changed the lives of millions of people in the blink of an eye. R&D tells us that their genes were changed. This time the mutants were targeted, but that kind of power who knows what they'll do next."

"Commander Hill," the president sounds pissed with her, but she thinks she at least managed to get them off the stupid Avengers thing. "I understand perfectly well what this means. I also understand that you have no explanations to offer me for this."

"Not yet," she snaps. She's had every available agent on it and the only thing that's come up is _House of M_ and no one can seem to tell her what it means.

"Then I suggest you get onto that," the president says like it was his idea in the first place before he ends the communication.

She probably should take a break for a moment, get some food. She can't really remember when she had anything other than coffee. It would explain the headache and the foul mood, but that's a luxury she doesn't give herself. She taps her comm unit, opening a line to the bridge. "Get me Tony Stark on the line."

The next thing she knows she's too busy to even regret not getting any food first. An entire town gets decimated, Alpha Flight is defeated in a matter of seconds and she has too many agents down. It's still a bitter pill to swallow to call in the Avengers and fail her orders _again_ , but at the end of the day she's glad for it. Even if Tony Stark is still an ass, he's an ass who gets results and she can respect him for getting the job done.

When she finally gets time to eat, she stuffs herself and she falls into her bed and sleeps away the next twelve hours.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Civil War

Maria would be lying if she said it was a subconscious decision to hit the gym in the middle of her night on a day she was told the Black Widow had returned from a mission. It's not that there aren't any other viable sparring partners on the ship, it's that most of them wouldn't be comfortable enough fighting a superior officer. Natasha Romanoff has no such qualms and she knows she made the right decision when she finds Romanoff bouncing on the balls of her feet, looking almost impatient like Maria is late for an appointment they never made.

Romanoff is downright vicious this time around. She's barely pulling her punches and Maria revels in it. She doesn't stop and Romanoff doesn't ask her if she's okay even when her blocks are constantly too slow. Her head is pounding from hitting the floor too many times and every movement _hurts_. Romanoff still looks fresh, like she could do this all night. She probably can and she's happy to oblige. At least for a while, until a particular move has Maria going down while pain explodes from her nose to her fucking brain.

She can't get up after that. Her muscles have reached that point where they've turned into yell-o and Maria stares up at the ceiling, only vaguely aware of Natasha walking away from her. She thinks of everything she's done the past week. Of the deals she's been making with all the devils of this world. Her head is pounding so hard, she feels nauseous and she squeezes her eyes shut.

"You must hate me," she says out loud and knows it's a mistake the moment she says the words. She has a stupid habit of wanting to know exactly where she stands with people. Not that she cares which way of the spectrum she falls, but she just needs to know. She thinks that's her father's fault.

"Don't flatter yourself." Natasha sounds close and Maria opens her eyes in time to see her drop a towel on her chest.

"No, you don't do hatred," Maria murmurs. She doesn't register on the Black Widow's radar enough for that.

Romanoff doesn't answer, but impatiently gestures towards her own nose. Maria stares, not quite understanding and Romanoff rolls her eyes and walks away. "You're just doing your job."

"Yes," Maria frowns and reaches up, touching her nose gingerly. It's not broken, the Widow has too much control for that, but her fingers come away red and she presses the towel to her face.

"I'm just doing mine," Romanoff adds.

Maria hums and wonders if this is part of Romanoff's job: give the superior officer the beating she needs. She still doesn't move, even as she hears Romanoff leaving the gym. Maybe she'll just sleep right there.

* * *

Maria worries that she's coming to rely on these moments. As rare as they are, they're one of two securities she has right now. The first is that Tony Stark is well and truly crazy (not to mention annoying). The second is that Natasha Romanoff will kick her ass. Even now, when Romanoff has been downright distracted. Her moves are sloppy (for her) and the attacks don't have their usual bite to them. In fact, the last couple of moves have Maria pushing the Widow back towards the edge of the mat. This doesn't normally happen. Not that Maria has any illusions, she will lose this fight like she will lose any of their spars, even if Romanoff is not with it.

"Should we stop?" she asks, moving into an opening that Romanoff has left her. Usually it would be a trap, but right now, Maria thinks she might actually have a shot.

She's wrong and a well placed hit has her moving back, creating space between them.

Natasha doesn't respond, but there's a flicker of something and her eyes come to rest on Maria like it's the first time she's actually seeing her.

"Are you bored?" Maria moves back forward, trying to make a sweep at the woman's legs. She's gone before Maria even gets there and a kick to the solar plexus has her stumbling backwards, gasping for breath.

"I spoke to Rogers," Romanoff says.

Maria blinks and rubs at her stomach as she buys herself time to process those words. This particular fact did not go into any of the reports she received that morning. She knows she didn't miss one, she always makes sure to read Romanoff's debriefs when the spy makes it back to HQ. Like she needs them to be prepared for this, even if they rarely talk. In fact, this is probably the most information Romanoff has ever volunteered during one of these fights.

She's standing there too long because Romanoff is suddenly moving and it's all Maria can do to stay on her feet. For the first time, Maria feels like she isn't the one working off her frustrations. Except, she doesn't have half the skill Romanoff does to defend her against it and she's the one being pushed back. She's the one whose heels meet the edge of the mat. She ducks and rolls, comes up and gets pushed to the floor before she can get her bearing.

Natasha's on top of her. Green eyes dark and her fingers brush Maria's throat in a move that would have her choking if this was a real fight. "Should I worry?" she asks, her arms spread wide on the mat in surrender.

"Would I tell you if you did?" Romanoff asks and shifts, her knee pressing against Maria's stomach.

"Yes," Maria knows that much. If Romanoff was a double agent, if she had doubts, the best place to be would be right here, gaining her trust with the truth.

There's a smirk and Natasha shifts forward, her hand moving to Maria's shoulder and pressing her down further against the ground. "You're improving."

Then she's gone, but Maria can still feel the pressure of her hands and knees and it leaves her blinking up at the harsh lights above.

"I am not," she finally says, pushing up to her feet.

All the answer she gets is laughter as Romanoff disappears into the locker room.


End file.
